


Leave Your Mark On My Heart

by imbrokelyn99



Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Anal Sex, Birthmarks, Blowjobs, Hickeys, M/M, Marcy's not technically in this but Patrick tells a story involving her
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-22
Updated: 2019-07-22
Packaged: 2020-07-10 13:07:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,388
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19906189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imbrokelyn99/pseuds/imbrokelyn99
Summary: David thought it was a trick of the mind, at first. It was light and subtle, an almost-perfect beige circle staining the creamy expanse of Patrick’s muscular-looking forearm. After their meeting came to its disastrously quiet death, Patrick handed David his business card and David got a second look. It could be a bruise, he thought. Could bruises look like that? Maybe if they were healing. Or it could be a wood-stain; this new and perplexing person seemed like the type to like pedestrian, hands-on hobbies like wood-working.orPatrick has a birthmark and David absolutely adores it.





	Leave Your Mark On My Heart

**Author's Note:**

> This one has been a _long_ time coming! One fateful day, during a rabbit watch of The Date, I zeroed in on a brown spot on Noah's arm that those of us watching ended up determining was a birthmark. And then the rest is history. 
> 
> So this one's for me, since every time I think of Noah Reid having a birthmark, I get all misty-eyed. But it's also for Claire, Reed, and Aly. Love you guys, thanks for the inspo. <3

There were a lot of things David noticed when he first shook Patrick’s hand, not in the least of which was the gentle current that seemed to run from Patrick’s body to his. But what snagged a thread in the ever-working cogs of David’s mind was not the electricity, not the softness of skin, or the charmingly rough calluses, but the coffee-coloured spot on the inside of Patrick’s right arm.

David thought it was a trick of the mind, at first. It was light and subtle, an almost-perfect beige circle staining the creamy expanse of Patrick’s muscular-looking forearm. After their meeting came to its disastrously quiet death, Patrick handed David his business card and David got a second look. _It could be a bruise_ , he thought. Could bruises look like that? Maybe if they were healing. Or it could be a wood-stain; this new and perplexing person seemed like the type to like pedestrian, hands-on hobbies like wood-working. 

He liked seeing the spot. When Patrick would come over to the store and help unpack boxes of product, David would catch glimpses of it peeking out from under Patrick’s rolled up sleeve. David thought it was charming, and sometimes, when he’d let his thoughts get away from him, he’d wonder when it first appeared on Patrick’s skin. When he was feeling particularly lenient with himself, he might catch himself thinking about what it would feel like to brush over it and feel the smoothness of it under his fingers. Would it be raised slightly? Would he be able to feel the edges of it and know where the mark stopped and the rest of Patrick’s skin started without looking?

But these were thoughts that David would tuck away immediately into the file folder in his head labelled “Do Not Touch,” because his new business partner was solidly a Kinsey Zero, by his measurement.

Then Patrick, with his touching and simple birthday gift, and his sparkling dinner banter, and his soft eyes glinting with the kind of affection and excitement that came after their first kiss, proved that he was solidly _not_ a Kinsey Zero, not at all. 

Suddenly David’s file folder had been unpacked and set aflame. David was realising, slowly and yet somehow also all at once, that that was a thing Patrick was very good at: Patrick found the rough edges of the walls that David put up around his heart and picked them apart, and whenever David would hand him a match, Patrick would waste no time in setting those walls alight. The ease with which David found himself giving out matches, especially as their relationship built itself into something more and more stable, both delighted and scared the shit out of him. 

With his walls burning up around him, sending warmth tingling through his body, David felt it get easier and easier to prod at Patrick’s own walls, to ask the difficult questions without worrying that one wrong word would send Patrick running for the hills.   
“What’s this?” David found himself asking the morning after their night at Stevie’s. They’d been tangled up in each other in her bed, drinking up the last precious moments of privacy they’d have the privilege of enjoying for the foreseeable future. Warm and bare, save for their boxers, they traced tips of fingers over each other’s skin, wandering over the large expanses of backs and chests, sparking electricity up from the tender skin of wrists. 

David circled the spot now, shocked by its smoothness. He answered the questions that had piled up in his head: no, the mark wasn’t raised at all, and if he closed his eyes, he wouldn’t be able to tell where it started and ended. Somehow, that made it all the more endearing to him. There was just this spot on Patrick’s arm, like an inkstain, blind to the touch but still very _there_ , and it made him want to know about it even more.

“That’s my birthmark. Did you just notice it now?” Patrick asked with humour in his voice, his fingers massaging lightly at David’s scalp.

“Mmm, no, I’ve seen it before. I’m just curious about it,” David said quietly, his thumb tracing the edge of the circle over and over.

“Well, I’ve had it for as long as I can remember. Actually, wanna hear a funny story?” 

David perked up and stopped his ministrations to instead rest his chin on Patrick’s chest, shifting up even closer against his side to have a clear view of his face.

“Mhmm.” 

Patrick smiled at him and started tracing long lines up and down David’s arms, his feather-light touch leaving goosebumps in its wake. “So, when I was a kid, I was _obsessed_ with chocolate. More than other kids were, I think. So obsessed that I had cavities every time I went in to the dentist. Dr. Rohault called me his best customer.” David let out a chuckle at that before Patrick continued. “My mom was actually concerned that I’d get myself sick from eating so much sugar so often. One day, when I was really young, like 4 or 5, I was having chocolate ice cream on a cone—” 

“Predictable.”

Patrick pinched David’s side lightly, enjoying David’s little giggle, and continued. “—and some of it dripped down my arm. And that’s when I noticed my birthmark. I thought it was just more ice cream. So I went up to my mom and asked her to help clean me up. She wiped away all of the ice cream, and then I said, ‘Mom, you missed a spot,’ and I pointed the spot out to her. Looking back, she _obviously_ knew what it was, but she put on a big show of trying to rub it off with a napkin. She even put some hand sanitizer on it at one point. And I was _freaking out_.” 

David laughed, absolutely enthralled by this charming piece of Patrick’s childhood. “And then?” he prodded.

“ _And then_ , my mom looked me in the eyes, so serious, and said, ‘Patrick, do you know what this is?’ and I said, ‘What is it?’ My mom went, ‘It’s a sign. You eat so much chocolate that now you’re _turning into it_.’”

“She told you you were _turning into chocolate_?” David laughed incredulously. Patrick laughed with him and started putting on an affected tone of voice as he continued retelling the story. 

“She did! She said, ‘Patrick, if you don’t stop eating so much chocolate, you’re going to turn into a giant chocolate chip. And then in the summer, you’ll melt down the drain and never see me or Dad ever again.’” 

“Oh my god!” David cried, dissolving into a fit of laughter that bloomed from his stomach. “And you believed that?” 

“I was, like, five!” Patrick answered. “Of course I believed my mom when she told me I was turning into a chocolate chip. She had evidence!” He said, pointing at his own arm. 

David chuckled and tried to hide his own enormous grin into the skin of Patrick’s chest. He felt like his heart was going to explode at how _cute_ that was. 

“So, did you stop eating chocolate?” 

Patrick nodded solemnly. “For about six months, I think. Just stopped, cold turkey, until my parents made me a chocolate cake for my birthday. I cried _so hard_ because I thought my mom _wanted_ me to turn into a chocolate chip that would melt away.” 

“Oh no, poor baby,” David said, rubbing his hand comfortingly over Patrick’s arm. Patrick grinned back.

“So that’s when I found out that the mark was actually a birthmark and _not_ , as my mom had led me to believe, a sign that I would soon turn into sugar.” 

David hummed and leaned up to kiss Patrick. “That was a cute story.”

“Glad you liked it,” Patrick whispered back before kissing David again, sweet and languid. Then: “Do you have any birthmarks?” 

David frowned up at the ceiling, as if trying to remember. “I...don’t think so. My mole, but that’s it, I think.”   
Patrick smiled and leaned down to kiss the mole on David’s chin. “I like your mole,” he said, nipping at David’s bottom lip on his way to settle his head back into the pillows. 

“You do?” David said quietly and a little incredulously. “All of my old friends used to tell me to get it lasered off.” 

“Well, they were stupid. I’m glad you kept it.”

David raised his eyebrows and swallowed a smile. “Hmm. Why’s that?” 

“Just another perfect detail on your perfect face,” Patrick said with a grin, nudging their noses together playfully. 

David scrunched his face up, looking halfway-sour, halfway-pleased. “Okay,” he said disbelievingly.

Patrick laughed and kissed him one, twice, before saying, “Seriously. I think it’s cute.” 

David twisted his mouth in the way that he does. “Well, your birthmark’s pretty cute, too.” 

“Oh, I’m so glad you think that. I was gonna get it lasered off after this,” Patrick joked. 

David rolled his eyes and pressed another short kiss to Patrick’s mouth before rolling away to start getting ready to leave. 

After that, David took care to give Patrick’s birthmark a little extra attention. Sometimes, while he would brush a kiss against Patrick’s lips, his fingers would travel down Patrick’s arm and rub soothingly at it for a bit. Or when he’d take Patrick’s arm as his boyfriend led him to the Cafe for their almost-daily dinner dates, David’s hand would sneak down and cup the birthmark in his palm, like it was a treasure that he was trying to keep for himself. 

On their first night in Patrick’s new apartment, they crashed into bed clumsily, bone-tired from having moved in all of Patrick’s furniture. Some pieces were still in their IKEA boxes, waiting to be put together, but after putting together the bed frame, the couch, and the coffee table, they’d been too tuckered out to continue. Now they lay sprawled across Patrick’s grey bedspread, limbs akimbo. Patrick was spread out, starfished, half across David, who was lying like he’d been in a coffin rather than Patrick’s new, comfy bed. 

David looked down at their bodies, a chuckle of amusement building in his throat, when he noticed that, with Patrick’s arm draped so high up across his own chest, David was so, _so_ close to his birthmark. 

He hesitated for a second before leaning in and biting it lightly. Patrick jumped like he’d been electrocuted. 

“What was _that_?” David said with an incredulous laugh. 

Patrick stared at him wide-eyed. “I—I guess it’s sensitive. I didn’t know.” 

“Hmm,” David said with interest, rolling them both over so Patrick was trapped underneath him, excitement brewing in the depths of his eyes. 

“Hmm what, David?” Patrick asked with a grin. 

“Hmm, I think that’s something worth exploring,” David responded, his hand sliding up Patrick’s side under his shirt. Patrick laughed.

“Are we really gonna break this bed in right now?” 

“Objections?” David asked, cocking his head to the side and stilling his hand. 

“Not one,” Patrick murmured before wrapping a hand around the back of David’s neck and pulling him down for a searing kiss. 

David swept his tongue into Patrick’s mouth as he ground his hips down against his boyfriend. When they were both _just_ worked up enough, David sat up on his haunches to peel Patrick’s shirt off and then his own. David positioned Patrick’s arms then so they weren’t as spread out against the sheets next to his head but straight down, close to his body. He bent over and pressed a tiny kiss on Patrick’s birthmark before giving it an experimental lick. He heard Patrick’s breath hitch.

“Mmm, tastes like chocolate,” he murmured with a wicked grin.

Patrick laughed and smacked his side lightly. “Shut up.” 

David swallowed Patrick’s laugh into his mouth, kissing him soundly and then moving down his chin, planting kisses across his jaw and down his chest as he made his way to the button of Patrick’s jeans. He wrenched them open and started tugging away impatiently, earning him another laugh from Patrick, who lifted his hips, giving David better leverage for pulling the pants and boxer-briefs off. David got up onto his knees and moved back as he went, peeling Patrick’s jeans and underwear off of him at a glacial pace. Finally, he got to the foot of the bed and stood up before finally taking them off entirely. While he was up, he stumbled out of his own pants and underwear and ran to his overnight bag to fish out the travel bottle of lube he’d brought. 

David returned to the foot of the bed in a flash and ran his hands up Patrick’s thighs as he crawled between his legs. 

“What do you want, baby?” David asked. Patrick sighed. 

“You can do anything you want to me. I just want you,” he replied. David bent down and pressed kisses to the inside of Patrick’s thigh. 

“You got it,” David said with a smirk. He took Patrick in hand and pressed kisses up along the shaft before taking it in his mouth and giving it a couple of good sucks before abandoning it. He ignored Patrick’s huff of frustration and pushed himself further up the bed. 

“What are you— _oh_ ,” Patrick moaned. David had taken hold of Patrick’s cock and started jacking him slowly as he kissed up Patrick’s right wrist and, finally, closed his lips around the cafè-au-lait spot near the tender crook of Patrick’s elbow. He sucked at it harshly, ran his teeth over it and then laved at it to soothe his bite as his hand slid over Patrick’s cock.

“Are you seriously trying to leave a hickey on my birthmark right now?” Patrick asked incredulously, sounding like he was struggling to breathe. 

“You can roll your sleeves a little lower than usual for a couple of days,” David reasoned. 

Patrick snorted. “Careful, you might suck it all the way off.”

“Oh, no, I’m saving that for your dick, actually,” David replied smugly. Patrick huffed a laugh. 

David continued his ministrations, careful not to bring Patrick too close to the edge, before he finally pulled his mouth away and examined his work. He and Patrick looked down at the birthmark, which was a much darker brown than it had been and was surrounded by a halo of purple. 

“That’s interesting,” David said, running a thumb over it gently.

“I’ve never seen a hickey over a birthmark before,” Patrick said, poking lightly at his own skin.

“First time for everything,” David said brightly. Patrick laughed and dragged David back up his body so he could kiss him.

“You’re ridiculous,” Patrick whispered against his lips. 

David chuckled and pulled away to plant two, three more short pecks against Patrick’s lips before crawling back down to give his dick the attention it had been aching for. David took the bottle of lube he’d abandoned on the sheets earlier and coated his hand with it. As soon as he’d slipped his mouth around Patrick’s cock, he pressed a slick finger into his boyfriend’s ass. 

“Jesus _Christ_ , David, I’m not gonna last long,” Patrick breathed. As David bobbed up and down on his cock, his tongue pressing up hard against the sensitive vein under the head as he moved, he watched Patrick come apart underneath him. He loved watching the blush bloom over Patrick’s chest and up his neck, loved seeing the vein on the side of his neck pop out with the effort it took not to scream. If David were an artist, he would create charcoal drawings of Patrick’s enraptured face during moments like this: the way his eyebrows were knitted together, his eyed pressed firmly shut, his mouth slack—all of it made Patrick look like he was halfway losing his mind with pleasure, and David would repaint the Sistine Chapel with the image of that. 

David had worked his way up to pumping three fingers in and out of Patrick as he took his cock deep into his throat, but he stopped as soon as Patrick spoke. 

“Tell me what you want, babe,” David said breathlessly, his voice hoarse.

“I want you in me. Now, right now, please,” Patrick groaned.

David acquiesced and lubed himself up before pressing slowly into Patrick. He groaned as Patrick clamped down around him when he’d slipped in to the hilt and bent down to kiss his boyfriend sloppily, all tongue and teeth and love. 

“Fuck me, David, come on,” Patrick ground out, and David did, pounding in and out of him at a dizzying pace. David himself was halfway gone already; even just prepping Patrick for his dick had made him painfully hard and he’d had to rut up against the mattress for relief. Now, with the warmth and pressure around him, Patrick’s skin and lips and eyes under him, the sounds of their breaths mingling, he was beside himself with pleasure. 

He tried to angle his hips right to hit the spot he knew would drive Patrick wild, but as he came ever closer to the edge, his aim got less careful. Still, he jacked Patrick desperately as he pumped in and out of him, and before he knew it, he was coming inside his boyfriend. The blood rushed around his ears and he felt a little lightheaded, and when he looked down, Patrick had taken himself in hand and started jacking himself off at the sight of David riding out his orgasm. What felt like a breath or a heartbeat later, Patrick was coming and tightening around David’s spent cock. 

David pulled out once Patrick had mostly come down from his pleasure-high and he stumbled to the bathroom, still feeling a little scattered himself, to find a warm washcloth they could clean up with. 

Later, after they’d cleaned themselves up, they snuggled in together under the covers. The only light left in the apartment filtered in from the windows, a grey mix of moonlight and the faint glow of the streetlamps. Patrick was draped across David’s chest, listening to the peaceful beating of his heart and the deep rush of his breath. David ran feather-light, soothing fingers up and down Patrick’s back, and it was almost enough to put them both to sleep. 

“David?” Patrick asked, nearly flinching at the loudness of his own voice as it broke the peaceful silence that had settled comfortably around them.

“Hmm?”

“Why do you pay so much attention to my birthmark?” 

“Hmm,” David said, like he meant for the sound to stand in for, _"Oh, we’re actually using words, okay.”_ He considered his answer carefully. Frankly, he’d never given much thought to it himself; he knew he found it endearing that Patrick had one, but _what_ exactly was so endearing about it? 

He cleared his throat when he’d settled on an answer. “I think, um...it’s just that it’s evidence that you have...a past?”

“What?” Patrick said with a laugh.

David huffed in frustration, wondering where the eloquent language that he’d just had in his head had flitted off to. “It’s gonna sound stupid but...you were _born_ , and you’re a _person_. Like you were a baby once, and then you had a childhood. And then you grew up. Like you’re _human_ , I guess, in all senses of the word. And that probably makes me sound like I’m from another planet, but. Whatever. It’s just another detail about you that I love, I guess. Like how you drink English breakfast tea, plain, every morning, and how you go on hikes to clear your head, and how you stand on the couch in your socks when you get excited about baseball. You have a birthmark. It’s, like...another thing that makes you, you. And I love you. So.” He frowned at himself, hoping that his little speech didn’t come out as incomprehensible or hokey as he thought it had.

Patrick sighed and tightened his arm around David’s torso. He pressed kisses to David’s chest, his neck, his shoulder, anything within reach. “I love you, too, David.” 

“I really hope you do because now that I think about it, the hickey I left on your arm looked pretty bad, actually, and I don’t want you getting mad at me over it tomorrow.” 

Patrick snickered. “We’ll see.”

**Author's Note:**

> [Here](https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/574813771978244106/601827568877961216/Screen_Shot_2019-07-19_at_12.08.34_PM.png)'s a high-def pic of the birthmark (from [this picture](https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/574813771978244106/589311566768373799/SC4_EP403_D40_SW_0076_copy.jpg)). These are both courtesy of Claire.
> 
> I'm at [@noahnicholasreid](https://noahnicholasreid.tumblr.com) on tumblr if you wanna come say hi :)


End file.
